


holding infinity

by snsk



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, do not judge me, your obligatory high school!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur could save Merlin. If only Merlin would let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one: collision

**collision: in which there is a collision of the big bang sort**

* * *

It begins like this, because Arthur is sort of an arse when he's groggy and late and he's only had one cup of coffee, and Merlin, although better at mornings, will never, not in any lifetime, stand for Arthur's prattishness, and besides Arthur and Merlin's first meetings will never be what you'd call polite.

And so Merlin is absent-mindedly trudging his way to his first class on his first day in this strange new school, perusing his schedule and rounding a corner, and Arthur is running, first class still two blocks away, late already because he's overslept (on his first day) and still asked George to stop for that essential cup of coffee, and two worlds collide quite painfully.

They both fall gracelessly to the cool hard pavement, Arthur because he _had_ been going rather quickly, Merlin because he's practically skin and bones and has no sense of balance whats oever.

"Ow," Arthur complains angrily, once he's gotten over the shock of the sudden fall on his arse. "Watch where you're _going_ , will you!"

He leaps up, wincing, and surveys the boy, still on his back before him.

He's all pale skin and sharp angles and dark hair, and he's wearing faded jeans and a dark green hoodie and a sudden scowl at Arthur's accusation, and he's got ears which stick out just that much, and eyes a darker shade of blue than Arthur's.

(So very long and so unbelievably slender and so impossibly easily breakable.)

-and Arthur thinks, unbidden, that he's sort of-

-and somewhere inside a long-locked room down the hall of his soul, something-

-finally. It's been too long. I've missed you, idiot.-

-but the boy is talking, and the sudden shoot of _something_ is over.

"Watch where- _I_ wasn't the one going a hundred kilometers an hour!" he snaps, getting to his feet, slower and more painfully than Arthur because he's all bones and no padding and on hard unyielding concrete that's got to hurt.

"If you'd _looked_ _where_ _you_ _were_ _going,_ that wouldn't have mattered," Arthur shoots back.

They are both on their feet now, voices rising in the cool morning air, eyes fixed and glaring, no sign of giving in, or apolopgy, and then Arthur feels a rush of…

Of Hey, this is easy. This is familiar. This is us.

Of Hey, I know you. I've always known you.

The boy looks as confused as Arthur feels. Arthur figures the whole weird déjà vu thing is happening to him too, the rush of far-off memories, almost there, almost within grasp but not quite, still unreachable. I know you.

They stare at each other, silent, wondering, not so hostile now. ( _I know you I know you I know you._ )

But a bell rings, not so far away, and Merlin startles and Arthur curses, because Goddamnit his class is still practically miles away, and the spell breaks.

He has to leave, but Arthur doesn't know what to say. He wants to ask Have I met you before?, but he knows, somehow, that this is so, so much more than a kindergarten buddy or a friend of a friend. He doesn't say Catch you later, because it's so ridiculously insufficient for all that this is (but what _is_ this) and also his arse is still sore.

And he won't say I'm sorry, because no.

He settles for "Uh," and the boy says, "Yeah."

And Arthur starts running again, a myriad of questions running with him through his head, where when how _who_ , and still that constant _I_ _know_ _you._


	2. two: two three four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which destiny has a bone to pick with Arthur.

Because destiny has pre-ordained it as so, the next time Arthur sees the boy again, he's in the middle of being an even bigger jerk. It's in the cafeteria, and Arthur's with his friends, which is not always a good thing, and they're picking on this skinny long-haired new kid, Lance, who'd had the audacity to answer back when they'd poked fun at him.

And Arthur knows that this is stupid. They're seniors now, and this is petty, this is bullying, this is _mean,_ but not to participate probably means the insults will be directed at _him,_ means social isolation, and as Uther Pendragon's son and heir to his company, he has a certain social status to uphold.

And if that reasoning is slightly twisted, it doesn't matter because it is safer like this. It's not as easy to be hurt.

And so Arthur jeers.

Kay shoves Lance backwards, and he stumbles. Out of the corner of Arthur's eye, he sees two figures coming over. He recognizes one as Gwen, melted-chocolate skin and pretty, springy hair, the girl he's always sort of noticed but not really. The other one's long-limbed and skinny-shaped.

Oh, no.

They reach Arthur and his friends just as Kay shoves Lance again, this time to the ground.

"Leave him _alone_ ," Gwen snaps, bending over Lance on the white cafeteria floor, just as the boy faces them and says, "Enough, okay? Lay off him."

Arthur closes his eyes. Stupid, _stupid_ boy.

Kay looks amazed at this audacity. "Do we _know_ you?"

"I'm Merlin," the boy answers, and- and there it is again, a sudden spark of something, flaring up inside that hidden corner of Arthur's soul.

Gwaine looks at them both, highly amused. "Merlin and Arthur! God, this is priceless, this is."

"No it isn't, Arthur snaps, and the boy- Merlin- looks at him, looks surprised just a moment, like he hadn't expected him to be there, and then disappointed. Disappointed in Arthur. And Arthur has to fight back an utter wave of guilt that threatens to flood him.

"Merlin and Arthur?" asks Leon, who's obviously had better things to do than crack open a book once in a while.

"King Arthur and his sorcerer, Merlin," says Percy, sighing.

Leon squints. "That a movie?"

"For goodness' sake, Leon," snaps Kay. He addresses Merlin. "You'd better watch your step."

And Merlin stares straight at the biggest bully in the school, who's all muscles and brawn and could snap Merlin's beautiful, fragile neck into two, and answers coolly, "Thanks, but- you see, I don't have to watch my step as much as you, as _I,_ fortunately, have managed to master the art of walking and talking at the same time."

* * *

Next is English, and because destiny would have it that way, none of Arthur's friends are in this particular class, and Arthur arrives not-quite late, and heads to one of the only two empty seats in the back.

He's settled in and comfortable, and taking out a book and resigning himself to a lonely class every Monday, and the lesson's about to start.

Which is when, of course, the door opens and Merlin enters, rushed and breathing heavily, and Arthur asks destiny, Really? _Really?_

"Sorry," he pants to the teacher, who is middle-aged and motherly, and who smiles an It's alright, dear, smile at Merlin, and directs him to the only empty seat left in the class.

Merlin looks over, and they stare at each other, and Arthur can practically hear the _Perfect._ _Just_ _perfect._

But he smiles back at the teacher, who Arthur can tell is practically dying to feed him up and pinch his cheeks and marry him off to her daughter, and while Arthur is busy being mesmerized by that smile (stretch of mouth and flash of white and curve of lips), he walks to Arthur's right, gives Arthur a glare (still mad about the bumping and the bullying, then) and sits down, turning away from him and scraping his chair to the furthest possible edge of the table.

And Arthur is reminded inexplicably of- of Twilight, and bites down a burst of laughter, and the lesson starts.

Unfortunately, though, Arthur misses it all. Because- well, because Merlin's skin, you see. And his floppy, bitable ear, the side of his absurdly lickable neck, his long, graceful fingers twirling a pen, making Arthur wonder if they are as talented at other things, as well.

And while Mrs Roberto is droning on about required reading, something undoubtedly important as this is the last year and there is university to be thinking about and the future to consider, he's watching three purple-yellow almost-faded bruises exposed by the pushed-black sleeve of Merlin's hoodie, and feeling an inexplicable urge to lean over and kiss them away.

He snaps out of it when he notices Merlin looking at him gazing at his arm. Merlin flushes and pulls his sleeve over the bruises, and stares straight ahead at Mrs Roberto, who's now saying something about how she's sure that extra credit will be useful to them and how they can earn it.

Arthur's brought back to real life, now, and dear God, what has he been thinking. He's confused and upset and doesn't feel entirely in control of himself right now, and he doesn't like this feeling. Not at all.

And he thinks to himself: he's never been more in sympathy with a sparkly, cold fictional character.

* * *

Destiny, though, is not quite done with him.

It's after school, and Arthur gets out of the car, with a muttered "Thanks, George." George says "Of course, sir," and tips his hat at Arthur, and walks off, most probably to the kitchens.

Arthur walks tiredly into the big, empty house; Uther's at work, of course, and Morgana doesn't seem to be home yet, judging by the lack of loud, blasty music resounding through the walls. It's been a long day, what with the strange jolts and the new discoveries about his sexual tendencies, and the people who make you feel like they've known you all your life, when they haven't, and he just wants to flop onto his bed and sleep. And he almost makes it there, too, but then the doorbell rings.

And rings again, a few minutes later.

"Gaius!" Arthur yells, nearly at the top of the stairs.

There's no answer. He's probably in the kitchen with the cook and George, stuck to their favorite soap on TV; Arthur is sure it comes on around this time.

"Gai- oh, never _mind!_!" Arthur trudges down the flight of stairs again, muttering something about servants who didn't earn their keep, yells "Coming!" when the doorbell rings a third time, wrenches the door open, and finds himself looking at perfectly sculptured cheekbones and surprised, dark eyes.

"You have got to be kidding me," Arthur tells destiny sternly.


End file.
